Familiar FACES - A Christmas Oneshot
by Jackson Hanning
Summary: Christmas day finds the whole FACES family together in England's house. France, America, Canada, England, Sealand. Christmas Oneshot Excessive fluff


I wake to a loud knocking at my door. I blink my eyes and try to regain my bearings. It must be barely dawn, the way I struggle to open my eyes. Who in the world is causing this infernal RACKET at this hour?

I pull myself out of bed and stumble toward the front door. I yank it open with a scowl. "WHAT?"

America blinks at me. "Whoa, Iggy! You look terrible! Did we wake you up?"

I blink in confusion. "Di-... What time IS it, Alfred?"

"It's already like seven!"

Well it's later than I usually get up. Still, I haven't seen America up and going at this hour in ages. "What are you doing here?"

"C'mon, Iggy! Don't tell me you forgot!" America pushes his way inside, and Canada and France follow him. "You... didn't forget what today is, did you?"

My foggy mind struggles to keep up. "It... Oh!"

"Merry Christmas, Dad," Canada says, smiling warmly at me.

"Thank you, Matthew," I tell him. "Oh, I suppose I did forget. Bloody hell. Oh well. It isn't like I'm not prepared or anything... just forgot it was today. Make yourselves at home, I'll be right back."

As I get upstairs, Sealand bounds out of his bedroom. "IS IT REALLY FINALLY CHRISTMAS, ARTHUR?" he shouts at me.

"It really , finally is, Peter," I tell him, rolling my eyes slightly. "I mean really, you have to ask? You kept me up all night waiting for Tino to come down the chimney. You should know it's Christmas. Anyway, Francis and Alfred are here, you should go say hello. Oh, and Matthew."

"Who?"

"Matthew," I repeat. "Your _other_ brother? Oh never mind. Just pretend you know who he is and that he's sitting there and you'll be fine."

Sealand doesn't even hear me. He's too busy flying downstairs toward the family room.

I head into my room to change quickly, and go back downstairs to rejoin the "party". America and Sealand are under the tree, shaking all the presents. France and Canada are not in attendance, but with the scent of something like cinnamon and maple syrup comes wafting into the rest of the house, it isn't hard to figure out where they are. "Stop that, you two," I tell the two children under the tree. "Really, Alfred, you're nothing more than an overgrown child. Peter, show America what restraint means?"

Sealand, however, doesn't know the _meaning_ of the word restraint, so my request is futile.

"Aw, c'mon, Artie!" America sends one of his boyish grins my way. He really has Hollywood worthy good looks. Not that I'd ever admit it to his face. He's got a big enough head as it is. "It's just a little Christmas fun!"

Oh bollocks. Now I seem like the Scrooge. "Forget it. Just don't knock the tree over. Flying Mint Bunny was nearly crushed when Peter decided to climb it yesterday."

"Oh bugger off, you big bully!" Sealand exclaims. "Can't you turn off your sour mood? Just for _one_ Christmas day?"

"Language, Peter," I scold, not even looking back as I head toward the kitchen.

"Ahh! Angleterre!" France smiles warmly at me as I step into the kitchen. Canada glances up and smiles at me as well. "Mon petite Matthieu and I were just whipping up a little something for breakfast this morning!"

"It smells good," I tell them. I'm still a little jealous. Even though my scones have been improving lately, they can still cook circles around me. With one arm tied behind their backs.

"French toast with maple syrup," Canada adds softly.

"How long before it's finished?" I ask them. "Peter and Alfred are going to shake loose whatever happens to be in those boxes before long.

"Just a few more minutes," Canada replies. "You could make them set the table?" he suggests.

"Brilliant idea, Matthew," I tell him. "Boys!" I call into the living room. "Boys, would you please help set the table?"

"If we do it, does that mean we can open presents faster?" Sealand asks after a slight pause.

I roll my eyes. "Yes, it does."

I hear a scramble of feet as America and Sealand hurry to the cupboard. "What are you doing, stupid?" I hear Sealand mutter. "We only need four."

"Who are you calling stupid, little man?" America asks. "I think you're forgetting to count yourself, 'cuz I sure as _hell_ know you didn't just skip past _Mattie_."

"Who?"

I glance to one side and see Canada hang his head, and France loop an arm around his shoulders, murmuring in his ear.

"Would you stop making a buffoon of yourself, Peter?" I ask in exasperation. "At least pretend to pay attention to your own family."

"I do!" Sealand pouts. "But I've got a big family, with you guys and Mama and Papa and Uncle Norway and Uncle Denmark and Uncle Iceland! I just forget that he's not America! They look too much alike."

"It's not like it's hard to tell us apart," America puts in. "I mean seriously? I have a strong, hero-like physique!"

"Alfred," France puts in. "Matthieu is your _identical_ twin."

"Fiiiiiiiiiine," America says. "Well, I have a cowlick and he's got a curl!"

"That's too hard to remember," Sealand complains. "But lemme see if I've got it straight! America is the one who smells like a hamburger, right?"

"Hey!"

"Yes, he is," France and I chorus at the same time. America pouts.

"And so Canada must be the America who smells like pancakes and beavers!"

"What the hell do you know what a beaver smells like?" America mutters. "You live on a freaking metal island."

"Peter, be polite," I groan. "Canada does not smell like a beaver."

"Fine, then it must be his weird polar bear that smells."

From somewhere in the corner, a white ball of fur growled. Sealand looked startled and took a step back. "S-sorry!"

Canada laughed a little. "It's okay, Peter. Kumakitchi doesn't like to bathe very often."

"Kumajiro," America corrects.

"Right."

"Bon appetite, everyone!" France says, raising a platter of french toast into the air and carrying it to the table. America and Sealand scramble for a seat, while France sits beside Canada. I take my own seat at the head of the table and say grace. Then the strange family I call my own begins to eat. That is to say, France, Canada, and I eat. America and Sealand stuff their faces and practically inhale the food rather than eating it.

About halfway into our breakfast, I look up to find France smiling at me. "What is it, Francis?" I ask him, trying to seem uninterested.

"Ahh, Arthur," he sighs. "Do you not simply love Christmas with our family?"

"It's... interesting... to be sure," I reply dryly, observing America and Sealand fight over the maple syrup.

"Oh, Angleterre," France says, tilting his head at me. "You cannot tell me you haven't loved Christmas all these years with Alfred and Matthieu and Peter. Seeing them just be children, even after they have grown and moved away from us. I know that you miss Alfred... and Matthieu."

"True," I admit. "And I suppose it doesn't hurt to admit that I somewhat enjoy having all of us together again. Even you," I add begrudgingly.

France smiles coyly. "I know _that_, Arthur."

"Oh shut it," I mutter.

"Can I say something?"

"Anything, Matthieu!" France encourages.

"I'd just like to thank Dad for letting us spend Christmas at his house this year," Canada said softly, smiling straight at me. "And I just... wanna tell you guys... that this is really my favorite time of year. I love... spending Christmas with my family. All together like this. And I know we've missed a lot of years, but the ones we spent together are really the happiest memories of my life. It doesn't even matter if Dad and Papa are fighting," Canada said, glancing between France and I with a slight smile. "Or if Peter forgets who I am... or if Alfred's being an idiot." Here Canada grinned at his brothers and gave Alfred a wink. "At Christmas... I look forward to this, because I get to spend a whole day with the people that love me the most." Canada gave a lopsided grin, very reminiscent of America's self-confident smirk. "And that's enough to make my whole year worthwhile."

France dabbed at his eyes with a napkin. "Oh Matthieu, what a lovely remark!"

"Good speech, bro," America said, his mouth full of toast.

Canada blushed and looked down into his syrup-smudged plate. "It wasn't just a speech," he said quietly. I almost didn't hear him.

"It was a lovely though, Matthew," I tell him. "Honestly... I feel the same way."

Canada looks up at me and gives me a smile. It spreads as a reflection onto my own face. "Merry Christmas, Dad," Canada says.

"Merry Christmas, son," I reply.

* * *

**_Christmas fluff. I had to write it. It was /gonna/ be a Nordic Christmas, but somehow I ended up at Iggy's house. Huh. Go figure._**

**_So Merry Christmas everyone! It is OFFICIALLY Christmas where I am as I post this... it only took me an hour and a half to write. And I'm sorry if you were hoping for the next chapter of Changed... it isn't quite ready yet._**

**_Happy Christmas and a Merry New Year!_**

**_-Jack_**


End file.
